Lullaby
by SYuuri
Summary: It's more than a song; it's a remedy to heal the wounded soul.


**Title: **LULLABY**  
Character: **Sam (main), Jules**  
Word count: **Overall, 800.**  
Rating: **G**  
Prompt: **#63-Past and #25-Aftermath**  
Spoilers: **Acceptable Risk**  
Timeline: **After Eagle Two, before Aisle 13**  
Summary: **It's more than a song; it's a remedy to heal the wounded soul.**  
Disclaimer: **I just hatched the plot bunny. I don't own anything else.

* * *

**(.past)**

As soon as he descended the stairs, he noticed that the house was empty.

Everything was in the right place aside from the missing antique Ming dynasty vase that used to sit in the foyer – his sister knocked it over when she's disobeying the General's no playing ball inside the house rule -, but the sense of disbelonging was unshakeable.

As he walked further down, he realized that it was _him_.

He had no business standing there in his old living room in his worn out military uniform and dry leaves clinging between his tousled greasy hair. There were soot and dirt crusted beneath his boots and when he glanced back, a trail of muddy footsteps on his mother's carpet was glaring at him. _Damn._

For a while he was growing anxious. What would happen if she found out? She wouldn't be pleased. _Perhaps_, he would be grounded for the rest of his life. _Maybe_ she would make him do chores he passionately disliked. _Most likely_, she would tell his father and that would be the worst case scenario that could happen. _Double_ d_amn._

But he's not a little kid anymore. He's no longer her seven year old son. She wasn't even around. Nobody was.

Sam pushed the front door open, a thick and arched mahogany that always gave him an ethereal feeling like he was living in the past, and was greeted by the sight of his front yard. His father had hired a gardener that came twice a month to do maintenance and look over the garden so it was in a perfect condition. The sprinklers were running and the lawn was glistening wet, filling the air with the scent of damp soil. Not far from the first sprinkler was Tory's pink bike. It was laid on one side, the handle digging slightly into the soil and turning brownish.

There was nobody around.

He stepped forward, feeling as though he was floating instead of walking, and onward he floated until he tripped on something. Looking down, his heart grew cold as he saw a familiar bright yellow sandal whose color contrast against the pavement.

_No, no, no! Not again! _

An ear-splitting screeching sound pierced his heart and soul he knew if he looked up he would see a red truck. He would see her blonde pigtails swaying before-

_Sammy! Come on, you slow poke! _

No.

_Samm-_

No…

**(.aftermath)**

"Sam, wake up!"

He jolted awake and sat up upright, chest heaving with the need to fill his lung with as much air as he could. Beads of sweat were dripping down his face and drenching his shirt. His eyes darted wildly across the room as he tried to register his whereabouts.

Sam nearly snapped when he felt a hand on his arm.

"You okay?" Jules asked groggily and he was able to see _his_ sheer terror reflected in her eyes. "You had a nightmare."

"I'm fine," He heard himself answer, his voice raw with bottled emotion. Forcing to shoot her a small grin, he squeezed her hand. "I didn't mean to wake you, sorry."

Jules bit her lips, doe eyes showing nothing but concerns and unspoken questions. He wanted to ask if he said something, anything in his sleep, but decided against it. There's no need to evoke an unnecessary interrogation at 2 AM in the morning.

She simply laid back and waited for him to discard his damp shirt before beckoning him to scoot closer. Sam pillowed his head against her shoulder, feeling her slender fingers threading through his locks in soothing gesture.

_It's just a dream, Sam. Don't torture yourself. _

It was then when Jules began to hum a song. A lullaby.

Impossibly, he felt hot tears burn his eyes.

Once upon a time, when _their_ parents were away to attend yet another military banquet, he used to sneak pass the babysitter they'd hired and tip toe to his sister's room. By about that time, she would have already asleep and he would stand next to her crib and sang to her. His only sibling. The other Braddock. Victoria Braddock.

_Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green,  
When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen._

The routine went on for the next few years until he was old enough to feel silly singing to her baby sister. It was magic in lulling her to sleep, and seeing those small lips curl into a smile while sleeping made him feel like a proud Lieutenant.

Laying next to Jules, he found himself reciting the song in his mind over and over and over and over again until his breathing slowed and he fell to a dreamless sleep.

_Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so?_  
'_Twas my own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so._


End file.
